The Priestess and the King
by AnnaRambam
Summary: Retired priestess Brixby is now back in the world or supernatural for one reason and one reason only; To transfer the soul of a dear friend to Heaven. However, will this one meeting with a certain King of Hell change her mind?


"We can either kill each other or fuck each other. I see the way you look at me, what'll it be?"

Crowley stood before me, slowly unbuttoning his black dress shirt and giving me a deep look of seduction that would sway a nun. My hands were shaking uncontrollably and my breathing had shortened_. Did he, did he just ask me to have sex?_ In no way did I think I'd ever be in this situation with the King of Hell. I envisioned making a deal with him, maybe, but not this. I'd been after him for months to undo a deal a friend made over a year ago. He traded his soul for my survival after I was possessed by a demon and well, you know the rest. Typical human behavior, right?

I needed to know that he'd be okay. I needed his soul out of hell so that the images of him being torn apart would stop haunting me and bring peace to his memory. Elias was strong but not resilient on the inside and I knew hell would break his gentle soul in more ways than one. As soon as I woke up from my coma, I knew something was wrong since that asshole wasn't by my bedside. I called his phone, his second phone and his burner phone and felt all hope break inside me. After three weeks of recuperation, I tracked down his sister and all she did was give me the key to his storehouse arsenal. I broke down then and there.

No way would I leave him in hell. So finally after a bunch of time tracking the slimy bastard Crowley from town to town and state to state, I found him at the head of a financing company, figures.

I got to his office by noon and was as patient as ever, he's a business man after all, they're always busy. Earth has so many customers and hell has so many merchandisers. When his beautiful, practically asymmetrical brunette secretary let me in to see him (who looked longer than she should've, really), I then saw that I was not prepared for a toe to toe with this demon.

The office was a charcoal and the walls were adorned with landscape paintings but near two giant bay windows, was what seemed to be a copy of Van Gogh's _The Starry Night_. There was a black as pitch rug beneath a small grey office chair. Finally, there he was, sitting in a large black leather chair with thick armrests behind a glass desk.

When compared to his secretary, this man looked like nothing I'd ever seen possible. He had an almost homely square face but his jaw and his beard made it the perfect shape. You could kill someone with that chin. He was working the dark 'I still have hair, it's just my hairline' hairstyle pretty well too. I caught myself standing at the doorframe and staring for too long before he got up and put both hands on the table.

"Please, come in. Have a seat."

I moved like a confused penguin to the office chair before him and looked at him closely. He was wearing a fine black suit, definitely expensive and probably tailored. Of course the King of Hell could wear nothing less. I put my purse next to my chair and my hands together on my lap, I would get nowhere if I didn't match poise for poise.

"That is an absolutely beautiful copy of Starry night that you have there."

For a moment, a smile appeared on his face and he seemed almost amused for some reason.

"Thank you, it was a gift from a very old grateful client. So, let's talk about your little problem. I hear you're interested in doing a little…business?"

He had an accent that I couldn't quite place. It was either English or Irish. He smelt of very nice after shave and had a breathe that smelled of spearmint. Touché, I'd chewed on a handful of cloves before making my way in.

"Well, more or less. It's more of a return than a purchase."

His brows furrowed and he sat back down before putting his hands together on his desk. They were exquisite hands, very long and fine, clean and proper.

"Well, the business I'm into Ms-?"

"Brixby. You'd do well to remember."

His brows furrowed even more and he momentarily brought in his bottom lip to form a confused almost taken aback smile and went back to all seriousness.

"Well Ms Brixby, in the business that I'm running, I don't get many complaints or returns."

"That's probably because most of your clients end up dead isn't it?"

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. His right eye squinted slightly before he subtly licked his lips again and threw daggers at me with his gaze. Not going to lie, he looked pretty damn pissed off.

"What is it you want?"

I kept my hands together on my lap; I was not going to play his game and right into his hands. Instead, I put on a smile and looked into his green eyes.

"The impossible."

He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of scotch. As he poured some of the brown stuff into the two glasses, he glanced at me. He pushed a glass towards me and sighed.

"Go on."

I was pretty much just given the green light so I loosened up a little and took the glass in my hand and held it mid way to my mouth.

"I need a soul transfer to Heaven."

He groaned and rolled his eyes before taking a sip. After watching him gulp it down without any side effects, I took that as an okay go to drink mine. His eyes looked up at mine and he sighed once again then put his hands back together on his desk. He had a bored look on his face and I was quite surprised since that would mean higher chances of this working.

"And which soul might I be granting a one way ticket to the good times?"

"Elias Yancy."

At that moment his eyes light up. That was not good. His eyes began looking at me quite actively before a smirk appeared on his perfect face.

"So you were that big priestess the talk was about?"

"Emphasis on were."

He emitted a short throaty laugh and pulled in his bottom lip then let go of it slowly. Something about him doing that made me very uncomfortable.

"Well that does change the situation slightly."

I arched my eyebrows slightly before adjusting myself in the chair a little more. I pressed my palms together tighter so that they would remain in their current position.

"How so?"

He leaned forward slightly and looked down at me.

"I won't be able to give you a refund but, how about an exchange? He goes up, you take his place."

My fingers loosened completely and I felt my poise begin to diminish before I snapped back to reality and cleared my throat.

"I can pay you any sum you would want-"

"I don't care about money, I'm the King of Hell, I have all the money I could possibly want. Souls however, souls I could never have enough of."

"And um, I'm guessing hell is an all gen-pop kind of place, huh?"

Crowley moved his eyebrows slightly as if thinking it over.

"Well not exactly. It's more of a separation by kind of souls, each has their own special faction but you wouldn't need to worry. I'd put you somewhere special, I'd hate for you to be stuck with the same people you put there in the first place."

I bit my lip and forced myself to look away from his lips and instead to his eyes. I could easily tell he was attempting to play me like a violin by playing on my fear but I knew he would put me in gen pop nonetheless. I would play into his plan alright, but he would regret it later.

"Thank you, that would be kind."

He tilted his head once before smirking.

"Would it be okay if I took some time to think it over?"

His smile disappeared.

"You must understand that this is a special onetime deal for your peace of mind Ms Brixby-"

It was time to bring out the big guns; I unstuck my hands and placed my fingertips on his. His eyes looked surprised when I looked at him with a look of borderline pity.

"Please."

He sighed and looked at me with some pity and flipped his hands so they were holding mine. I didn't expect that but I didn't move them. His hands felt lukewarm and like a tough piece of fabric. Finally he pulled them away and brought them back to his desk.

"I'll give you a day."

I nodded and quickly picked up my purse before getting up to shake his hand. He reached upwards but once he had my hand, he stood up and my hand became more his hand.

"I don't like to be kept waiting, Ms Brixby."

Which finally brings us to how I ended up at his lovely home in the middle of the night, holding a shot gun to his head. I mean I should have expected it since it was way too god damn easy to follow him home. I just spotted the most expensive car in the lot and followed it to a fancy high rise. I put on my spandex leggings and a tank then scaled the side of the building and wound up in his kitchen.

I thought he would be almost surprised to see me burst through his window but instead he was sitting in a large black armchair and holding a glass of scotch. Across from him was another glass that was just waiting. Fucking demons. I raised my gun nonetheless and was back to his kitchen island.

"I see you made up your mind quickly."

"Something like that. New deal: You transfer his soul, I keep mine and you keep your head. How's that sound?"

"I have a better idea."

He arose from his chair and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. He then snapped his fingers again and still nothing happened. He had the look of a confused child on his face and I giggled slightly and sighed.

"Yeah, that's not going to work."

I brought a hand down to lower my waistband, revealing to him a Tibetan symbol that works not only as an anti possession but renders any magic but my own useless on me.

"I learnt my lesson the first time."

He looked up slightly and shrugged his shoulders.

"Interesting. Well, if you know me and I know you do, I'm guessing that shot gun is no ordinary gun is it?"

I finally smiled.

"Correct, handsome."

He pulled his bottom lip in and my eyes immediately focused on them. I focused and brought my gaze back to his eyes. For some odd reason, he did a double take and smiled.

"New deal."

He put his glass of scotch down on a black coffee table and quickly took off the buttons from his blazer. When he pulled it off, my breath got caught in my throat. There was no hiding the fact that he looked really good.

"No deal but my-"

"We can either kill each other or fuck each other. I see the way you look at me, what'll it be?"

He was unbuttoning his shirt already and I still looked absolutely shocked and confused.

"How- what?"

He paused for a moment and began taking off the cuffs from his sleeves. Something told me he wasn't going to repeat himself.

"As pleasant as that sounds, it's not what I came here for."

He looked up from his cuffs and nodded.

"Oh I know it isn't. Just I supposed that since I'm going to grant your request anyhow, I might as well get something out of it."

He was working a little slower on the buttons then, there were at least three left to unbutton. I wasn't falling for his trap just yet.

"And what would have inspired this little change of heart, might I ask?"

He looked at me straight on and I felt targeted.

"You're a powerful, intelligent priestess who could be of use to me someday when I need you to repay the favor."

"Are you sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm pointing a gun at your head?"

He smirked and continued unbuttoning, not breaking eye contact.

"Oh, I've had guns pointed at my head my fair share of times. No, you are a diamond in the rough my dear. I just want to know if I can take a crack at you."

I gulped silently and bit my bottom lip slightly. His shirt was fully unbuttoned and his dark chest hair was peeking through.

"Make the transfer."

"Already done."

He closed his eyes for a moment and I could literally see him pull Elias, clad in his regular camo gear, from the ground and blow him upwards through the ceiling. The air smelled like magic and I remembered all of the hunts and the great times I had with that gun totting son of a bitch. My rock, love, my greatest friend. Nostalgia took over and tears flooded my vision.

When the air cleared, I looked at Crowley intently, he was smirking. When I began walking to him with my gun, you could say he was a little frightened but when I tossed it into the armchair behind him and crashed my lips into his, he was more welcoming. His shirt was finally off and on the floor.

My arms went behind his neck while one of his arms went around my waist and the other cupped my face. His lips were softer than I had thought they would be and his grip was borderline possessive but then again so was mine. His tongue darted inside my mouth and met my own and I tasted his tart scotch and blood which just about drove me crazy.

Just when I felt that I would run out of breath he pulled away abruptly and dipped his lips to the crook of my neck and began kissing. His lips definitely felt like they were working some kind of magic because my knees went weak and I let out a small moan. Not stopping the motion of his lips, his hand went up the back of my tank, palming at my back and pressing me deeper to him. I reached downwards to his bulge and rubbed slightly. He pulled my hand away and removed his lips from my skin.

"Ah, ah, beauty. It's my time now."

He put both hands around my waist and began backing us up to the kitchen island I had showed up in front of. Crowley caught my lips with his and began lifting my tank top over my head before taking a nipple of mine in his mouth. I held onto his shoulders tightly when I felt his teeth lightly bite it.

"So you do have a kink, interesting."

"Shut up."

He tried sliding a hand down the back of my pants but the spandex was too tight it seemed so he took a hold of both sides and slid them down.

His hand caressed my thigh but when it reached my backside, grabbed on tight and I pushed myself against him. I could feel his hard on right on my thigh and I was more than curious, I was impatient. Crowley's hand on my rump moved inwards and I felt his finger move aside the string of my thong and reach the entrance of the slit between my legs. When I felt his beard near my ear, I gasped.

"I wonder, were you wet before or after the blazer came off? Because as of now, you are positively dripping."

His index and middle finger went in for the kill and I whispered a muffled "Oh, god." Which made him emit a throaty chuckle.

"No, it's Crowley."

His fingers continued their skillful movements while his thumb rubbed my throbbing clit. I took hold of a belt hoop on his pants and he once again took my hand away.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Impatient priestess."

He removed his fingers and wrapped my right leg around his waist after slightly pulling down his black slacks. He pressed his cock against me and rubbed it against my hot button. Just generally teasing me enough to finally start rocking against him. I heard him let out a low growl and he pressed his lips against mine again. The friction between us was so charged that it could have powered his office building for a week. However we both knew that we both needed more than friction. Finally I pulled away first and pressed my forehead to his.

"Show me who's the King of Hell."

The smirk that he made was without a doubt the most sadistic yet charming smile I'd ever seen in the history of smiling. He pulled the side of my thong and tore it off before pulling me onto his ever awaited length that couldn't wait to motion itself within me. His thrusts were slow and easy at first, giving me a good feel of his hardware before pulling out, forcing a loud moan out of me. With time he began to thrust harder and quicker, making me moan several times and draw blood from his shoulders. I couldn't take it anymore, this man was going to have me collapse.

"Crowley-"

"Say it."

"Crow- Crowley, I'm cu-"

Before I could even finish my sentence, I had already reached the ultimate plateau. Words were useless and I saw complete white for a moment. When I came down, I slumped into Crowley's shoulder and was breathing heavily.

"Was that it?"

I looked up at him quizzically and arched my eyebrow. Was he serious? Did he not just experience what I did? He immediately looked semi apologetic before cupping my face.

"My dear, we're going to need to work on your endurance."

The King of Hell wrapped both of my legs around his waist and lifted me up before walking across the room towards his bedroom.

Shaking a demon is already hard enough, but the King of Hell? Might as well be fucking married.


End file.
